


Crown of victory

by okrableach



Series: History Is Written by the Victors [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Dancer Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Prince Keith (Voltron), Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okrableach/pseuds/okrableach
Summary: The kingdoms of Marmora, Altea, Balmera, and Krull come together to celebrate the end of the war. Keith is stuck having to sit through pointless mingle with other royals. His rescue comes in the form of a dance performance by one special Altean dancer. During the performance, Keith feels his whole world shift on its axis.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: History Is Written by the Victors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014726
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	Crown of victory

**Author's Note:**

> royal keith sexy

Celebrating their kingdom’s independence was something Keith hadn’t imagined doing in a million years. The Galra regime tormented his family’s part of the kingdom for decades on end. He grew up hearing his grandfather’s stories about how their kingdom was once a flourishing place with a steady economy and a solid democracy. They were an empire, through and throughout. That all changed when the Galra attacked. At first, they put up a fair fight. Every hope and courageousness crumbled when Keith’s grandfather passed away in the war, protecting their kingdom. All Marmora could do then was step down and accept defeat. 

Well, Keith’s father did. Keith didn’t. 

He fought hard for their independence and never gave up. He trained as hard as a royal knight every day and night with only one goal in his mind; take back what was rightfully theirs. He kept hidden in the shadows, deep in the corners of the courtyard, and busted his ass training until his knuckles would drip with warm blood. His eyes never left the target and it paid off. As the sole crown prince of Marmora, he managed to create an army so strong that it shredded the Galra army in their kingdom into pieces. It took a lot of sweat and even more tears, but he did it. He regained his family’s and more importantly, their kingdom’s, honor. 

So, unexpectedly, the surrounding kingdoms prepared a ball in tribute to their hard work. Altea, Balmara, and even Krell came together to throw the grandest feast their continent has seen in centuries. And grand it is. 

After spending years in his own solitude and keeping socializing to a bare minimum, Keith can’t say he’s that fond of balls. They’re claustrophobic with narrow-minded and fake people that are usually only attending to brag about their possessions. He hates going to them and he hates it even more now that he’s the highlight of the show. Strangers all around him think it’s okay for them to come and talk to him about his ’noble’ and ‘stupendous’ efforts to end the war. 

Keith just wants to go home. 

Still, he can feel Shiro’s state from across the ballroom, pinning him down to his throne. He stays put and converses when needed to, greets the highnesses from the other kingdoms with respect, and thanks them for their hard work. If you ask him, he'll proudly say that he’s doing a phenomenal job. 

His rescue comes in the form of entertainment. One of the hostesses rises up, clicks her wine glass, and asks the attendees to take a seat. It’s as if someone opened the large veranda doors and let in a breeze of fresh air the second all those people looming around Keith return back to their seats. He can’t help but smile when he sees one of the more annoying guests take a place at the table furthest away from him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the kingdom of Altea will now present our final act of the evening—the very special autumnal equinox dance by his royal highnesses own entertainment ensemble.” 

King Alfor, the ruler of Altea, stands up and waves before the guests with a smile brighter than the chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Seeing the coy look on his daughter’s face makes Keith believe that she had every part to do with the performance. 

The performance in question starts out slow with a teasing violin moving around the ballroom like waves on the ocean. There’s only one dancer on the dance floor, covered from top to toe with blue and purple silk. Keith knows from his studies that the dancers in Altea are usually male, so Keith can’t say he’s surprised when the figure turns around and it turns out to be a male dancer. What Keith is surprised by is how… alluring he is. 

The dancer has sunkissed skin, like most Alteans, with light blue arrows on his cheeks. His coffee-colored hair is not too long, but long enough that it curls around his ears. A veil covers up his eyes, so Keith can’t see which color they possess but he would bet his royal blade that they’re as blue as his arrows. 

Keith has experienced things no human being should ever experience, but nothing left him quite as breathless as the movements of the dancer. The only word that Keith can use to describe his feelings is truly and utterly stunned. As a fighter, Keith always makes sure his focus is narrow-minded since he prefers hand-to-hand combat. His eyes never leave the target for a second, and this moment right here reminds him of that. He’s transfixed, permitting his eyes to follow every movement, every dip, and every curve of the dancer’s body. He almost wants to stand up and walk over to him. He isn’t sure what he would do if he reached the middle of the dance floor, but chances are, he would just throw everything away and touch him. His fingers itch to feel the silk against this man’s skin. 

The music picks up as Keith leans forward to observe better—he wants no detail to pass his inquisitive eyes. He barely registers the piano and flute that gets added to the mix of harmonies because he’s too busy observing the way the dancer lets the purple silk cloak fall off his shoulders. It falls gracefully on the marble floor and becomes forgotten at an instance. 

The vail he's wearing is in a blue hue, but the material of it is so sheen that Keith can spot the second the dancer locks his gaze on Keith when he turns around. The pull is magnetic, electrifying in a way that has Keith tightening his grip on his seat. His knuckles must be white with the force he's applying to his grip.

If nearing insanity is this simple, no wonder destruction and chaos surround humanity. 

The dancer starts to approach his part of the room with steps lighter than water drops on flower petals. The waltz must be a part of the choreography because he doesn’t seem stiff for one second. He maneuvers around as the whole room watching him while his eyes are solely on Keith. The song must’ve reached its climax because the dancer’s movements seem more forceful, more thrilling as he jumps and twirls around the floor. He does a twirl right in front of Keith’s throne before he dips in a bow. Keith almost believes he catches him wink at him, but he can’t be sure. 

Then, the music stops. All too soon if you ask Keith. What happens next is a blur to him. He observes the attendees go back to their mingling, thanks the servants for the new drinks, and greets passing by princes. He does it all with his mind on the Altean dancer. 

Keith stands up for the first time during the night and roams the floor. Maybe God above would be kind enough to grant him a glimpse of the person behind the blue vail. It doesn't seem likely, but he does, however, run into Shiro as he's walking by the terrace. Shiro’s stare seems much heavier now than it has ever been, and God does Keith hate how easy his royal knight is able to read him. 

“Finally mingling, huh?” Shiro smiles knowingly at him, forgetting that they have to keep up appearances in front of the other royals. Their relationship is more brotherly than between a prince and a royal knight, but it would be a weakness to let others know that. 

“Yeah,” Keith says without finesse. “Just walking around” 

“You should’ve seen your face earlier,” Shiro continues, smile not wavering once. The words ‘during the performance’ remain unsaid, but Keith can sense them there nonetheless.

To maintain his honor, all Keith can do is scoff and pull the ends of his hair. His crown leans slightly to the right, so he straightens it. “I was only enjoying the performance.” 

“Enjoy you certainly did,” Shiro is flat out chuckling now. He remembers where they are and who they are surrounded by and squares up. The smile doesn’t leave his eyes though, mischief bluntly exposed by the twinkle in them. “Your dancer went to the left corner balcony.” Before Keith turns around to chase the object of his desires, he hears Shiro utter a pleased; “Good luck.” 

The walk to the balcony is both the shortest and longest trip Keith has ever taken in his life. His thoughts run wild with a thousand scenarios, each one playing out differently than the other. He isn’t sure if his approach is even welcome. Sure, he's of royal blood but who says someone in Altea cares about his title? It barely matters to them, after all.

When he steps out of the claustrophobic room, the very first thing he registers is how much he has craved fresh air. The first inhale he takes fills his lungs, already calming down his beating heart. The second thing he registers is the figure leaning over the iron balcony rail. Out here in the dark, the blue and purple silk appears much darker, more intimate.

Flustered, he makes his way to the rail. There’s no surprise radiating from the dancer when he places his forearms on the rail next to his, almost as if he had expected Keith to trail after him. Silence fills their vicinity as they gaze at the starlit sky and all of its constellations. Up close, the dancer's skin looks much like the sky above them but instead of stars, it’s freckles and scattered moles. There are goosebumps rising on his skin, growing stiffer as the breeze picks up.

“Are you enjoying your evening, your Majesty?” The dancer breaks the stillness between them. His voice is barely above a whisper. It’s intimate, only for Keith to hear. 

“I wasn’t until your performance,” Keith answers truthfully, tone steady despite his flushed cheeks. Then, he clarifies; “I don’t usually attend these things.” 

The dancer hums slowly. “Must be why I haven’t seen you in person before, your Highness.” 

“How about you? Do you usually attend these things?”

“Well, of course. I’m Altea’s main dancer. Princess Allura simply cannot do without my talents.” The dancer turns to face him. When their eyes lock, he winks with a low chuckle. 

Regret fills Keith. Suddenly, he feels more than willing to attend every single ball if it means experiencing a performance like the one prior. The dancer breaks his train of thought as he leans closer, giving Keith a much clearer view of his face. His facial features are sharp, yet soft around the edges. There lies not a single scar on his skin. Keith can confidently say that it’s threading the lines of being perfect. Just like the rest of him, his mind supplies. The vail is still covering most of his face though, so before Keith can stop himself, his hands reach for the edges of it, slowly pulling it up and out of the way. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Keith exhales, cheeks now blazing hot. Just like he imagined, the eyes of the dancer are just like the Altean sea. The emotions in his eyes are as deep as the ocean yet soft like the sky reflecting above it on a summer morning. Keith can feel his currents pulling him in and drowning him before he has a chance to retreat. “What‘s your name?” he asks because he knows it now; he doesn’t want to live in a world where he doesn’t have this masterpiece by his side. 

“Lance, your Highness,” the dancer—Lance—breathes, voice sounding as breathless as Keith feels. For a second, he thanks God that he isn’t the only one feeling this way. 

“I’m Keith,” Keith says as if that isn't widely known by the masses. If anything, his crown is more than enough to confirm who he's and what position he has in the world. 

“I’m more than well aware of your name, your Majesty,” Lance chuckles, eyes never leaving Keith once. He turns his body around so that his body is facing the building instead of the garden underneath them. His forearms are now behind his back, holding his body up by leaning against the rail. “So, what’s a prince like you doing out here with someone like me?” 

Keith wants to say that there’s no place he would rather be, but that would be coming on too strong. He can tell by Lance’s eyes that he’s the type to enjoy the push and pull—the chase—rather than getting to the finish line as quickly as possible. Keith can’t say he’s the same. If he would’ve had it his way, he would’ve already had his mouth trailing the sliver of skin peeking through Lance’s blouse. So, he shrugs. “It’s too suffocating in there. Out here, it’s peaceful.” 

“You’re right. The view is breathtaking,” Lance murmurs, voice barely distinguishable between the harmony of the orchestra playing inside. His head is turned upwards towards the sky. It seems like he wants to say something else, but after a moment of silence, Keith figures that he’s keeping it to himself. 

“What made you start dancing?” Keith asks, mostly because he wants to continue hearing Lance’s voice. Getting to know more about him is a very appreciated added bonus. Given their ranks, Keith shouldn’t even consider asking a question as such, but he can’t help it. He’d happily trade places if it meant getting to worship the entity in front of him. 

Lance turns around so quickly that his vail falls down on the flooring beneath their feet. Unfiltered shock shows through his expression. “Your Highness, why would you care about such trivial matters? I’m nothing but a lowly servant.” 

“That’s not true.” Fuck hiding behind the heavy weight of the world and the responsibilities weighing him down. He’s a prince goddamn it. If he wants to kiss a boy, he will kiss a boy. “You're the furthest thing from lowly. You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes upon.” 

The look Keith gets in return makes his confession all worth it. Lance’s cheeks are crimson red, drowning his freckles in their passion. His eyes are hazy, yet filled with wonder. “Your Highness… with all due respect, you cannot possibly mean that. You can have anyone you want, please go search for them instead. ” 

Keith closes the distance between them by placing his hand on Lance’s cheek, cupping it fondly. Immediately, Lance unthinkingly nuzzles into the warmth of his (probably sweaty) palm. With his palm, he lifts his head up so they can face each other. “I’m already exactly where I want to be with the person I want to be with.” 

Lance sizes him up, heaviness clear in his eyes. “I started dancing when my mom first began working within the castle as a chef. Out of boredom, I used to wander into the dance room and watch how the dancers moved with such grace. I was only a child but I knew that that was something I’d love to do. I wanted to move people by pouring emotions into dancing.” He's rambling, but his demeanor is relaxed. The words spoken are fond, followed by a smile nostalgic for what once was. 

“Can you show me what you’re feeling right now?” 

Lance takes Keith’s hand into his and positions him in a stance he has been in many times before in the training halls. Back then, he hated everything that had to do with dancing classes, but now, he’s relishing. The hand holding his gets guided mid-air, while Lance directs the other one to wrap loosely around his waist.

They start to sway to the muffled music. Lance doesn’t pull any complicated moves, which Keith is more than grateful for. They simply swing in each other’s arms under the moonlight. The once comfortable air has now turned into a chilly breeze, yet Keith can still feel the warmth emitting from Lance’s barely covered body. 

“This is what you're feeling?” Keith whispers when the second song reaches its ending. Not that Keith expected twirls and dips this time around, but this seems anticlimactic for all the talent Lance has shown him. The thought that Lance is adjusting to his skill (or the lack thereof) passes through his mind, making him flustered yet again. 

Lance smiles up at him, their dancing coming to a halt. “If you want to know how I’m truly feeling, your Highness, you have to take me somewhere else.” 

* * *

The castle this ball is taking place in is in the woodlands right in between Marmora and Altea. Here is where important meetings surrounding the parties in question usually occur. It’s not as large as the castles in the respective kingdoms, but it does a job well done. 

Keith used to spend his summers here with his parents as a child. While his parents were too busy discussing the details of the war, Keith wandered around and explored. By the time he reached the age of twelve, he learned to map out every secret passage and hidden rooms. One of them he particularly liked. It was the sole room located in the left-wing. It used to belong to his grandmother and was her art studio. There used to be half-made canvases and empty paint buckets scattered around the room. For some reason, Keith loved the imperfect finish of it all. He would spend hours sitting on the loveseat and taking in the details of her art. Some of them were landscape focused, while others were of their family. Whatever it was, everything in that room just made him feel so alive.

He takes Lance to this room. Since the guests are too occupied in the main ballroom, they barely notice the two men sneaking around the hallways. Still, Keith takes Lance through the secret passages for bragging rights. If he does it to see the bright grin on Lance’s face, then so be it. 

It’s been years since Keith stepped a foot into the room, so he feels rather surprised when he sees the unchanged interior of it. He doesn’t remember it being so… majestic for a lack of better words. The art is still in the same position, some facing the window while others tucked away neatly in various canvas stands. There isn’t much to see since it’s so dark outside, so he walks around the room and lights every candle he comes across. 

For some reason, he wants Lance to see the entire beauty of this room, craves to show a hidden part of himself to this dancer. 

“Your Highness, this is incredible,” Lance exhales, fingertips trailing against one of the canvases. It’s one of the last art pieces his grandmother did of their family. On the canvas, Keith is around six years old with a crown too large for his small head. 

“This used to be my grandmother’s art room. I used to come up here as a child to get away from everything.” Keith walks up to where Lance is standing and studies the painting. His grandmother always made sure to portray them as happy and well, even if the heaviness of the war tore them to pieces every day. They are all smiling, holding each other close and safe. If only reality was a reflection of this image. 

Keith can see from the corner of his eyes that Lance nods alongside his words. “Her Majesty was so talented. You look so very adorable as a child.” 

It’s the first compliment Keith receives from Lance, and it does wonders to him. Granted, it’s not directly pointed at him and more like the painting, but it still makes his heart race. He ducks his head to hide his embarrassment but curiosity gets the better of him so he peeks through his bangs and finds Lance smiling fondly at him. Then, he moves on to the rest of the canvases. He compliments all of them with sincerity. If Keith’s grandmother was still alive, she would've for sure loved this man and his way with words.

“Is this Marmora?” Lance asks when they reach the final canvas. 

Keith’s throat feels tight when he answers. ”It is.” 

The painting isn’t especially spectacular if you compare it to the rest of the pieces, but it’s Keith’s favorite. He remembers the day his grandmother painted it almost as if it were yesterday. It was their first day here that summer. Keith hadn’t been able to go to sleep because his mind kept replaying the sounds of the canons crashing into their castle back home. Before he knew it, he tiptoed his way to the left-wing and watched in silence as his favorite person did what she loved the most. He watched the strokes of the brush making shades of purple and red come to life so intensely that he winded up falling asleep on the staircase. In the morning, he found himself tucked into the comfort of his bed. 

“I’ve always dreamed of visiting. Did you know Altean kids fall asleep to lullabies about your mountain view?” 

“I’d be happy to take you,” Keith whispers, an honest promise. He places his hand on Lance’s shoulder and turns him around so that they’re facing each other. He keeps his hand there, basking in the warmth of the skin underneath it. “Would you go if I asked?” 

“Your Highness, I’d follow you to the edge of the universe if you so wish,” Lance articulates every word slowly, voice sounding breathless yet so sure. His hands are still hanging by his sides, and Keith wishes more than anything else that they were on him.

“Please touch me, Lance.” It’s not an order, not in the way he's usually used to. Because of his rank, he's more than accustomed to barking orders around him—whether it’s his counsel, soldiers, or servants. This time around, it’s not an order, it’s a wish. A need hidden beneath a question. 

For the first time during the night, Lance seems to hesitate. His eyes dart around Keith’s face, searching for something he doesn’t seem to locate. Keith thinks it might be regret or unwillingness. When he's done with his search his eyes lock onto Keith’s, settling for something he can only describe as unfiltered lust. His hands finally land on the curve of Keith’s neck and shoulders, pulling him closer. Chest to chest, they stare at each other intently.

“A big part of me tells me we shouldn’t do this,” Lance murmurs, breath hitting Keith’s cheeks. 

The only thing Keith can hear is his own heavy breathing and drumming heart. Desire clouds all his other senses. He blocks off the voice in his own mind telling him that this is a mistake, that Lance is Altean and a commoner at that. Instead, he chooses to focus on the moment. “You told me earlier that you would show me how you feel. It’s a crime to lie to royalty, you know.”

It’s a joke, and judging by the gleam in Lance’s eyes, he takes it as such. “I would never dare to do such a thing, Your Highness.” His hands reach over to the regal clasp holding Keith’s cloak together, and tugs on it until it snaps open. The cloak falls onto the floor as Lance continues working on unbuttoning the first button of his dress shirt.

Lance keeps eye contact as he continues on working through the buttons with skillful hands. Keith wonders just how many times he has done this before, and with who. The thought makes Keith’s stomach curl up in heat, so he pushes it aside. He's here with him now and that's what matters. When Lance finally reaches the last button, he stops and flickers his eyes down to Keith’s chest. 

The sight isn’t pretty, Keith is more than aware of this fact. There are both old and new scars covering his front side, all containing a war-filled story. Stories that Keith would rather not get into now. With a shaking hand, he tips Lance’s chin up so he can face him yet again. 

“Your Highness…” Lance begins but Keith cuts him off.

“Keith. Call me Keith.” God if Keith isn’t tired of being treated like a fragile being. He has survived so much, been through more than anyone could even imagine, is it so bad to want normality for once? Is it a crime to want to forget the endless responsibilities waiting for him just downstairs? 

“I can’t,” Lance shakes his head frantically. “Please don’t make me.” 

Keith’s heart shatters just a bit, cracking like a window during a storm. Then, he makes it his personal challenge to hear his name fall from those lovely rosy lips. Speaking of which, they look extra inviting right now with the rays of moonlight falling down on them, enhancing their plumpness. Deeming that he has had enough of dancing around, he leans in and finally connects their lips together. 

Lance gasps against him, hands landing on the center of his chest. They don’t stay there for long as they travel up his chest, reaching his shoulders and pushing off his dress shirt once and for all. It falls down quietly on top of his cloak. His hands then continue on with their journey, traveling up to the waves of his hair, which makes them bump into the crown resting on his head. 

“Oh, God,” Lance pants when he breaks the kiss, eyeing the crown threatening to tumble down. The crown costs more than anything in this castle, but Keith couldn’t care less. 

“Take it off,” Keith says. And Lance does. 

It looks foreign, being in someone else’s hands. The crystals appear brighter than Keith remembers, more neon purple than violet. Maybe it’s the contrast between Lance’s darker hands and the cool mixture of silver and purple. For a moment, he wonders what it would look like on his head instead of his own.

They go back to kissing after Lance places the crown on the windowsill closest to them, this time with more eagerness. Keith doesn’t contain himself anymore. He allows his hands to roam the cold silky texture of Lance’s blouse, feeling the juxtaposition of the heated skin underneath. He pops open the buttons rapidly, unlike Lance that took his time with the task. Regretfully, he can’t get a glimpse of the rest of his body at the moment, but he figures good things happen to those who are patient. 

Patience isn’t one of Keith’s virtues, however, so he kisses Lance’s lips one last time before moving on to the exposed skin on his neck. There, he plants love bites on every surface he reaches, each one granting him a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments between his mixture of kisses and love bites. At this point, he's halfway down his chest, without a struggle since Lance is thankfully taller than him. 

Lance pushes him up again with his lean yet strong arms and pulls him in for an open-mouthed kiss that steals the air right out of Keith’s lungs. He doesn’t respond to the compliment, but then again maybe this kiss was his way of responding. Keith understands. Usually, he isn’t one to talk during moments like these. He has had a couple of consorts in his bed, all meaningless to him. They were to blow off steam and never lasted for long. He barely even saw their faces, let alone talked to them during their sessions. 

This time it’s different. This time he wants Lance to know how beautiful he is, and how eternal he looks below the moonlight. He lets compliments pass through his kiss swollen lips as he drops down on his knees, hands tugging impatiently on the silk pants.

“May I?” Keith presses a small kiss on the v-line of his hips. And then another one because he can. 

“Oh God,” Lance repeats again, eyes wide and hazy. When he speaks, his voice is low and wanting. “I can’t believe I get to see this; your Royal Highness on your knees in front of me.” It’s not a response to his question, but Keith still goes for it. He drags Lance’s underwear down in one fluid motion, making them pool around his feet along with his pants. His mouth falls open with need as Lance’s cock bobs against his stomach. It’s swollen red and leaking, demanding all of Keith’s attention. 

Attention it gets. He drags his fingers slowly along its length, testing the waters. Immediately, Lance’s entire body shivers at the touch. Loving the reaction, Keith tightens his grip and starts to jerk him off slowly. He flicks his wrist every time his hand reaches the crown, smearing the precum down with the slide. If he was to do this to himself, this rhythm would be torturous, but Lance’s whines and moans tell him that this is exactly what he likes. 

“Your Highness,” Lance bites out, chest rising and falling in urgency. His eyes are screwed closed, facial expression twisted in pleasure. “I’m close.” 

Keith doesn’t want it to be over this soon, but he also feels committed to the cause. He wants to see Lance come undone beneath his hold, so he leans forward and wraps his lips around the tip of his cock. Noises fill the oval room, and Keith can’t tell if they are from him or Lance. 

“God,” Lance prays again, hands twisting in Keith’s hair. He tugs harshly, squirming at the overstimulation. His hips buckle which makes his dick push deeper into the heat of Keith’s willing mouth. “Your Majesty, please.” 

The unoccupied hand Keith had on his lap grip hold of Lance’s shaking thigh. He holds him in position as he continues on bopping his head and twisting his hands around the areas his mouth isn't occupying. It’s slick and wet and Keith almost cums from the thought alone. 

“Your Hig— Fuck, _Keith_!” Lance grunts and spills right into Keith’s mouth. His entire body shutters for a second, before it goes slack with exhaustion. He leans back against the wall behind him, eyes still closed. 

Keith pulls himself up, a smile stretching on his bruised lips. The layer of sweat that has now been created on Lance’s skin catches the illumination from the stars, making him shine brighter than they ever could. Some of the stars land on the crystal of his crown, making them reflect purple on his inviting skin. He looks so peaceful here in the stillness of the tower. Keith wishes he had his grandmother's skills, maybe then he would've been able to capture this moment and stare at it forever. 

“You called me Keith,” he says when Lance finally opens his eyes, blue fondness now filling them and threatening to spill over. 

The once relaxed Lance freezes over, mouth rushing to apologize. “I’m so sorry, your Highness. Please accept my humble apology.” 

Keith shuts him up by kissing him, deep and serious, wondering if Lance minds the taste of himself on his tongue. “Please avoid apologizing, I liked it. A lot.” He seizes hold of Lance’s hands and directs it to the strained part of his pants to prove a point. The touch alone almost makes him cum like a teenager who has never been touched before. It takes a second for Lance to understand what he means, and when he does, his eyes fly wide. 

“Oh, I see what you're putting down.” The bashful demeanor of Lance is back. He’s irresistible in the midnight light with a confident smirk painted on his lips. ”I can work with that.”

Keith shudders at the opportunities presented in front of him. One of the very first things he learned as a prince born into royalty is that he has to demand respect. He has to hold himself high and assured so others can kneel in front of him. A king is nothing without those below him respecting him but standing in this dimly lit room, Keith wants nothing more than to writhe underneath Lance. 

Lance slips his hand into Keith’s and leads them to the loveseat pushed against the far right corner of the room. The moonlight doesn’t stretch to this part of the room, leaving only the candles Keith lit earlier to act as their guiding light. Slowly, he lays Keith down and places a thigh on each side of his body, caving him down on the soft cushions. He's positioned right above Keith’s erection, teasing him by rubbing his naked ass against it. 

“Please,” Keith begs, wrecked already. His hips buckle up, seeking fraction. Lance being the tease that he is dodges him, making him meet nothing but thin air. 

“You know, hearing someone like you call someone like me beautiful not once but twice would make any sane man go insane. It’s not because you’re royalty—a crown prince at that—but because look at you. You’re all pale milky skin, violet skylit eyes, and lips pinker than juniberry juice. If I’m beautiful, then Keith you're bewitching.” 

Keith stares at him, slack mouthed. Nobody has talked to him in such a way. There’s a lot of things he hasn't done prior to this night, that he's experiencing with Lance. Coming here, he thought it would be another night spent uncomfortably bored. Not once did he imagine spending it in the arms of the man of his fantasies. 

Lance pulls him out of his spiraling. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.” 

Instead of telling him, Keith takes the index and middle finger on Lance’s right hand and places them into his mouth. He slicks up the digits with saliva by sucking and twirling his tongue around them. The eye contact between them is electrical, buzzing with lightning bolts. As he's lubricating the digits, Lance makes himself comfortable by lying in front of Keith, face right in front of his pelvis. He places small kisses around the area. Drunkenly Keith registers that he's kissing his battle scars. 

When Keith deems the digits ready, he drops the grip he had around Lance’s wrist and nods, urging him to take control. Lance doesn’t waste any time. He pushes down Keith’s pants to the middle of his thighs, spreads his legs apart as much as he can, and inserts his index finger right into him. 

The stretch burns. It’s nothing Keith hasn’t felt before, but it’s been a while since he has done this, let alone with someone else. It’s a burn he has always enjoyed so he moans in encouragement, buckling his hips lightly. The pace starts off slow, picking up alongside Keith’s gasps. 

Unlike Keith, Lance has long and slender fingers. They reach spots Keith has struggled to even get to, which makes stars bloom behind his eyelids. He’s not there yet, but he can feel it building up slowly and steadily. “Put in the other one,” he mumbles, already missing the burn of being stretched open since the lone digit became comfortable. 

Lance complies, inviting his middle finger seamlessly into the race. This time around, Keith doesn’t care about hiding his loud moans. They echo around the walls, bouncing against every surface. They only get louder as Lance twists, scissors, and curls his fingers. He’s too good for his own good. 

The ability to breathe leaves Keith’s body. He's trashing and gasping with every stroke, and it only gets worse when Lance finally hits his prostate. His head hits the cushions behind him hard, making it fall down on the floor as he silently screams. Never has he experienced anything as intense as this moment right here. For a second, he fears that he might pass out before he gets to cum. His hands fly out to Lance’s body, needing to touch him in any way possible. He thinks his nails are scratching against his chest, but he's far gone to tell. A mantra of Lance’s name and pleadings fills the space, sometimes a mixture of both. 

“Come on, Keith. Think you can come untouched for me?” Lance encourages, his left hand swiping his sweat-drenched bangs away from his forehead. 

Keith thinks he would do anything for Lance at this moment so he finishes off with a prolonged but broken moan, cock oozing out cum that hits both his and Lance’s chests. 

* * *

Hours pass as they are curled up in each other on the thin loveseat. They don’t rush to put on their clothes, instead, they bask in each other’s presence. Keith almost falls asleep multiple times with Lance’s hands carding their way through his hair. It calms him as no other thing has done before and he wishes he never has to leave this place. Luck isn’t always on their side. They can hear through the window that people are starting to leave. Horses gallop into the darkness with drunken bodies steering them. Some of the conversations from the courtyard below reach their tower, containing nothing but polite promises for future meetings and gatherings. Keith drowns it all out. 

“I have to leave, your Majesty,” Lance whispers against his ear, hot air tickling the thin hairs there. His hands still play with the waves of Keith’s hair, never once disappearing. Almost as if he wants a reason to be close to him. 

“You don’t.” Keith turns around to look him desperately in the eyes. “You can stay here with me, or we could go to Marmora together tomorrow. That’s what you dreamed of, right?” 

Underneath the surface, Keith knows Lance wants to stay with him, can feel it through his eager eyes. However, responsibilities crowd them both, thick as burning smoke. “We will meet again, my dearest prince. I know you will make sure of it. Look for me and bring me to you.” 

Keith seals the promise with a lingering kiss. The future seems so bright, full of guarantees. 

**Author's Note:**

> god, i can't tell you guys what i felt during the writing process of this fic..... 
> 
> i'm thinking about writing part two because there's still so much i think i can do with this trope? it's a trope i've always wanted to explore tbh... speaking of which, did anyone catch the hints of submissive keith? i'd love to explore him fully giving himself away.. 
> 
> let me know all your thoughts and if you would be interested in part two of these little lovebirds! love you guys, stay safe! 
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://okrableach.tumblr.com/) if you wanno <3


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